


'cause I want what I want, but with you it's what I need

by t_hens



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Introspection, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 23:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18303851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_hens/pseuds/t_hens
Summary: Phil had one rule: don't think of Dan, but that's hard to do when they bump into each other three years after Dan left.





	'cause I want what I want, but with you it's what I need

**Author's Note:**

> based off of ['gimme love'](https://open.spotify.com/track/24Kh0nzBsFEenB80Ud1wSN) by Carly Rae Jepsen
> 
> thank you to [fourthingsandawizard](http://fourthingsandawizard.tumblr.com) and [obsessivelymoody](https://obsessivelymoody.tumblr.com/) for being such wonderful betas and even better friends <3

Phil got the invitation on a Tuesday. It had started off as a promising day; the barista had gotten his coffee order right, he got on the tube on time, and he had been able to finish all of his work early. But opening the shiny red envelope had turned what would have been a nice, relaxing evening at home into him standing in the middle of his kitchen with years of memories flooding his brain.

He hadn’t thought about YouTube in years, at least not in the sense of being a creator. He still watched the occasional cat video or a funny late night skit, but being a ‘YouTuber’ wasn’t his life anymore, something that the invitation did not seem to take to mind.

_”Join us for YouTube’s 10 year celebration!”_

It gave a time, date, and location that Phil did his best not to commit to memory. He had no desire to go to a building he used to frequent and see people who he used to consider his friends, but ever since he stopped making videos hadn’t bothered to try and keep in touch with him.

And maybe he hadn’t tried that hard either, but everything that had to do with YouTube made him think of Dan, and that was at the very top of his ‘things to avoid thinking about’ list. 

Before he can stop it, his mind floods with memories of said person he avoided thinking about. Thoughts of dimples and big coffee-colored eyes. Holidays on the beach and shitty Manchester apartments with a balcony that they spent more time on than they did inside. 

An ache pulls at his chest and he throws the fancy piece of card stock in the bin.

-

It’s Cornelia who brings it up the next day when he’s sitting at his desk and trying to mind his own business. She pops her fiery, red head in and sits on the spare chair he keeps tucked in the corner of his tiny office.

“Did you get that thing from YouTube for their ten year anniversary?”

Phil pretends to ignore her, focusing extra hard on his computer screen, but he should know that she isn't going to let him get away with it that easy. 

“Philip, I’m talking to youuu!” she croons, waving her hand in his face. He loves her dearly, but she’s a lot like Martyn in the most annoying ways.

“Yes, I got the invitation, and no, I’m not going.”

She pouts and crosses her arms. “Well, why not? Wouldn't you like to see all your old friends?”

She’s smart and doesn’t say ‘Dan’ because she knows that will set Phil off. But she still pokes and prods at him until he answers.

“They were barely my friends then, and they certainly aren’t now.”

He’s being grumpy and petulant, but the last thing he wants to talk about this right now. He’s got a migraine building, and he just wants to go home and think of things that are decidedly _not_ about his old life and the people who used to be in it.

“Still, though,” she continues, “it would be fun. Plus, I’m sure you’d get a bunch of cool swag.”

Phil cringes, his nose scrunching up. “God, please don’t say ‘swag,’ it makes you sound like some twelve year old fuckboy.”

She cringes this time, but her melodic laugh follows.

“You’re such a grump sometimes. I miss when you were fun.”

It’s said as a joke, and logically he knows that, but the comment still stings. He knows that things are different. Knows that he used to be a lot more carefree and lively, but his life is different now.

He’s different now.

“I’m going home. I have a headache. I’ll text Martyn and let him know.”

He doesn’t wait for her reply, just packs his laptop and some extra work into his backpack and heads outside. The air is cold and has the stench of London that he still isn’t used to, but he doesn’t feel quite as stifled anymore. He gazes up into the dreary sky and feels an ache in his chest that he had mostly been great at ignoring for the past three years.

-

Instead of going home like he originally planned, he spots a quaint little coffee shop a few blocks down from work and decides that maybe some caffeine will help his headache. 

It’s quiet inside, thankfully, and he’s able to go straight to the counter and order a too-sweet latte and snag one of the plushy arm chairs in the corner by the window. He sips the scorching beverage slowly and tries to relax. His shoulders and neck feel too tense, and it’s doing nothing to help the dull throb of his head. 

He stares out the window and people watches for bit, always interested in the coming and goings of those around him. He used to like making up stories about all the passerby. But that was a long time ago, when his life was chaotic and full of dimpled smiles and Manchester macchiatos.

Someone walks by as he’s gazing idly out to the street and it makes his heart stop. He knows exactly who it is, and he hopes beyond hope that they don’t stop into this particular shop. But of course the universe isn’t that kind.

Dan walks in, taller and more broad than Phil remembers. His hair is curly now, too, and Phil can’t help but wonder if he just didn’t have time to straighten it or if that’s just how he wears it now. 

Dan walks up to the counter, and the shop is so small he can hear what Dan orders and isn’t all that surprised that it’s tea. He always preferred that to coffee, Phil’s brain traitorously supplies. He doesn’t want to remember those tiny little facts about someone that he does everything in his power to avoid.

As he busies himself with trying to become invisible and melt into the chair he’s in, Dan glances around the shop and his eyes fall on Phil. He doesn’t think he’s imagining the way that his breath hitches and the tug of a frown on his lips.

He moves Phil’s way once the barista hands him his cup, and instead of doing what Phil prays he will do and walk out the door, he approaches Phil where he’s curled into a ball on the chair.

“Phil.” 

Phil can’t quite put his finger on what tone Dan uses, but he knows there is at least a tiny hint of surprise and maybe even a touch of anger. 

“Uh. Hi.”

Dan stares back, unimpressed. He’s not entirely sure what Dan expects of him right now, in the middle of a coffee shop in broad daylight. Now is not the time for apologies and declarations of love. He severely just wants to stand up and leave, but he knows his mum would have his hide at being so rude.

“How have you been?” It’s a polite platitude that doesn’t encompass half of the questions churning in Phil head. He wants to know everything, every tiny insignificant thing that has happened in the time that’s passed, but he won’t ask. He’s nothing if not stubborn.

“I haven’t seen you in three years. You haven’t called, texted, _anything,_ and you ask me how I am?”

If he only listened to the tone of his voice, it might be easy to think that they were having a polite conversation about the weather. But Phil can hear the words, too, and they cut right down to the bone. Yes, everything Dan said was true, but he’s not the only one who did wrong in this situation.

“You’re the one who left.” It wasn’t what Phil had intended to say, but the words were out before he could stop them.

Dan retracts like he’s been slapped in the face, and he looks like he’s about to say something cutting when someone who Phil hadn’t even realized was here walks up and slips his arm through Dan’s.

“Hello, love,” the man says to Dan, snapping both of their attention to him.

Dan whips his head around to look at the newcomer and glances back to Phil. It’s tense for a second before Dan seems to make some sort of internal decision, tightening his elbow around the man’s arm and pulling it closer to his body. It says more than any words could.

“Hello,” the stranger says, finally glancing at Phil. “I’m Ron.”

He untangles himself from Dan’s arm and moves forward to shake Phil’s hand. He stares at it for half a second before taking it in his own trembling hand and shaking it.

“Phil.”

His bright smile falters a little bit, and a pit opens up in Phil’s stomach. 

“Oh. You’re _that_ Phil.”

His eyes immediately move to Dan, but he looks away before Phil can read into his reaction. 

“Um, I guess?”

Ron moves back to Dan’s side, a united front against Phil, and his smile is a bit tighter this time.

“Well, it was lovely to meet you, but we have to be going.”

He pulls on Dan’s arm and he follows Ron out of the building, but he keeps his eyes on Phil and doesn’t break the eye contact until he’s out the door and heading in the opposite direction of the shop. 

When he gets home, Phil opens the lid to the bin and stares at the invitation still laying on the top innocently, as if it hasn’t been causing Phil stress and worry since it arrived in the mail yesterday. He doesn’t retrieve it, because he has no desire to get bin juice all over himself, but he does take a picture with his phone so he has the place and date, even though he tells himself he isn’t going.

He can’t pretend he’s not thinking about it, though. Seeing Dan sparked something in him that he hasn’t been able to tamper down since. Yes, he had known they were living in the same city now, but he had hoped that in a city of over eight million people, he would hopefully be able to avoid ever seeing him. He should have known that he couldn’t continue to be so lucky.

He takes a few tablets and lays down, hoping dreamless sleep comes to him, but when he finally does succumb to his heavy eyelids, it’s doe eyes and dimpled smiles that he dreams of.

-

Saturday. 

It’s the day that looms heavy over Phil’s head the rest of the week. He knows the date, time, and place of the ‘Celebration’ almost as well as he knows his name. Sometime Thursday night is the night he finally gives up the pretense of pretending he didn’t care or that he would possibly go. The temptation of seeing Dan again is too great, although he will never utter those words aloud, even to himself.

Cornelia doesn’t bring it up again, thankfully. They go about their work, polite if not a bit strained (mostly on Phil’s part), and the rest of the week is perfectly average.

Except for the fact that he barely sleeps, and when he does, Dan is all that he dreams of. Once upon a time, that was a good thing. Once upon a time, there was no reason for Phil to dread reliving old memories of them together. 

By the time Friday rolls around, he’s a bit of an actual mess and spends the whole night combing through his closet to find something that he can wear, even though he isn’t going to the party. He’s not, he tells himself, even as he leaves the house and runs into Topman to find an outfit that he thinks will do a good job of saying, ‘Yes, I have a good job and am doing just fine by myself, thank you very much.’

He barely sleeps at all that night, and when he wakes up on Saturday at nearly 5 am, he gets up and does what he absolutely despises: goes for a run.

It’s terrible and torturous, but he gets through the whole thing, only having to stop and catch his breath twice. He hadn’t properly gone for a run in years. When he and Dan first split, he ran all the time since it was the only way to get his head out of the cloud of despair and misery it had called home for quite some time. 

He stops by Tesco and grabs some things for breakfast, figuring he might as well make pancakes if he’s going to be awake at this god awful hour. Flour, butter, milk, some chocolate for later, more instant coffee, some fruit - he wonders around the store for entirely longer than necessary, plonking random items into the cart, which he regrets as soon as he remembers he has to carry it all the way home.

-

It’s loud in the event center YouTube booked, not even because there are tons of people, just because the people here are all too loud and boisterous. Instead of walking around and socializing, Phil goes straight to the bar and orders a shot. The tequila burns as it runs down his throat, and he is reminded that he really should stop consuming things that he’s allergic to.

There are people starting to approach him, he can feel it from his perch on his stool at the bar, and he tenses, not wanting to have to talk to anyone tonight. Well, maybe not _anyone_. 

“Phil! You didn’t tell me you were coming!”

It’s PJ, and he slaps Phil’s back, smile too wide for his face. Sophie is next to him, giving him a warm smile, and he relaxes a little.

“Yeah, sorry. I wasn’t sure if I was going to or not.”

Out of everyone Phil used to associate with, PJ was the only person he kept in semi-regular contact with; their friendship expanded past the imaginary walls of the internet.

“Well, I’m glad you came! Did you want to sit at our table for dinner?”

Phil accepts the offer, relieved he won’t have to sit by himself or with a bunch of the vloggers he wasn’t all that fond of. He takes his place next to PJ and lets him talk, happy to just listen for now.

“Dan!” 

Phil’s head turns so fast, he gets a crick in it and winces in pain. 

“Hey,” Dan says, taking a seat at the table, Ron sitting next to him.

“You showed! I thought you said you weren’t going to.”

Dan glances at Phil quickly before replying, but it’s so fast Phil’s not sure if he imagined it or not.

“Well, I thought it might be worth coming.”

It’s ambiguous and his tone is vague, leaving Phil feeling irritated. If he had something to say, why not just come out and say it? Although, he was often told that he needed to take his own advice.

Dinner comes and puts a pause on the awkward conversation that PJ, Sophie, and Ron had mostly been keeping up. Phil can feel Dan’s eyes on him far too often, choosing to avert his own gaze. Part of him wants to confront Dan, the other just wants to leave and forget that he had ever thought coming here would be a good idea.

-

By the time the empty plates are taken away and the speakers take the stage, Phil’s got a headache throbbing at the back of his head, and his eyes are starting to get droopy thanks to his inappropriate wake up time.

The speaker is talking about how much Youtube has grown and how happy they are that everyone is attending, and it sounds a lot like white noise to Phil, only serving to make his eyes droop more. The advantage of the room being darkened, though, is that he can watch Dan out of the corner of his eye without it being conspicuous. 

He’s just as beautiful as he was back then, maybe even more so. Everything that had been delicate and understated about Dan is broad and bold now. His hair, the way the constellation of freckles dots across his cheeks. His fingers and hands are bigger now, and Phil can feel a tug in his chest of the thought of smaller, soft hands clasping his own. He drags his eyes away because he really, really doesn’t want to have a breakdown in the middle of this party in front of semi-strangers and _especially_ not in front of Dan. 

He mostly has himself under control, but then there is a slide show playing on the screen onstage and Phil’s breath leaves his lungs in a quick huff. They are showing pictures of everyone throughout the years, and the third picture covering the screen is of them.

It’s an old one - the two of them with a group of others under a waterfall in Jamaica. Their arms are wrapped around each other, smiles wide across their faces. He’s transported to hot sandy beaches, dazzling blue waters, and crisp white sheets that felt heavenly against their skin while they laid tangled together after sex. 

Everything hits Phil all at once and suddenly the spacious room is stifling. He gets up and leaves abruptly, not bothering to apologize or provide any explanations; he’s afraid of what would leave his mouth if he opened it.

-

It’s beginning to rain outside, tiny drops of water splattering on the pavement, but Phil stands outside anyway, leaning against the sleek, modern walls of the building. He’s not sure when he started crying, but there are tears leaving little wet spots on his dress shirt along with the rain.

The door opens somewhere to the right of him and he doesn’t look up even as a pair of expensive looking boots stop in front of him. He doesn’t have to look up to know that it’s Dan. No other person he’s ever met would like the studded monstrosities that Dan always had a fondness for.

“I’ve never understood why you liked such ugly shoes,” Phil says, keeping his eyes on the ground.

“These are Alexander McQueen’s, Phil, have some respect.”

He knows that tone, he’s heard it thousands of times: exasperated with a hint of fondness. It does nothing to help him stifle the tears still running down his face.

“I’m sure they cost more than your rent, right?” He hates the way that the his voice cracks a little, but Dan lets out a little chuckle and he’s more relieved than he has a right to be.

“You still shop at Topman, you can’t give me any crap.”

“Topman is great, you’re just a designer snob.” He forces out a little laugh so that Dan knows he’s not trying to be a dick. 

When he finally looks up, he almost wishes he hadn’t. Somehow Dan is even prettier in the rain, something he’s not sure how he never properly realized. He wants to start sobbing, feeling all of the things he’s been trying to bury for the past three years.

“I live in London now.” 

He’s not sure why this is what comes out of his mouth, but he’s pleasantly surprised by Dan’s smile. It’s not a full smile, no dimples, but it’s something.

“I know. PJ told me.”

Freaking PJ and his big mouth.

“I should have told you. And I’m sorry I didn’t. I’m sorry about a lot of things.”

The hitch in his breath isn’t loud enough to hear, but Phil is still in tune enough with Dan’s body that he can recognize his reaction by the way his chest expands quickly and his lips purse a little like he’s trying not to cry.

“You could have come with me, you know that, right? I didn’t want to go alone, and I didn’t want to leave you, but you were so god damn stubborn.”

“I know,” Phil breaths. “I was young and scared and - I don’t even know. I don’t want to give you a bunch of bullshit excuses, you deserve more than that. I just want you to know that I _am_ sorry.”

He doesn’t think he’s imagining the way that Dan’s eyes are shining in the light from the nearest lamp post. 

“I hated you for a really long time.”

Phil just nods, not even remotely shocked by this. It’s what he deserves, really.

“But I got tired of that. I don’t want to hate you, I love you too much for that.”

Phil definitely can’t breath now. The words leave a ball of emotion stuck in his throat and he’s rendered speechless.

“But what about Ron?”

“He’s my friend. My best friend, really.” He doesn’t think he deserves to feel the relief that he does from those words, nor the spike of jealousy he feels at someone else being called Dan’s best friend. “He was the first person I met in London and he took me under his wing. I’ve spent a lot of time crying on his shoulder about you.”

“Dan, I’m so sorry.”

“I -” he starts and then has to stop as a shuddering breath leaves him. 

Phil suddenly remembers that they are both still standing in the rain, probably ruining both of their clothes, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to break whatever spell it is that seems to be cast between them. Something is happening here, and Phil won’t risk ruining it.

“I knew that you wouldn’t want to leave Manchester. I knew when I asked you to move to London that you would say no, and it was my decision to leave. I could have given you more time, I could have tried to compromise, but I didn’t and that is on me. I know that I’ve made you feel like it was all you and it was your fault that things ended, but it’s on me, too.”

Phil’s not sure what to say back. There are so many words on the tip of his tongue, but none feel right. He wants to say that he should have been braver, should have tried to make things work, even long distance, but those things are only the tip of the iceberg of the things he feels. 

“Do you want to go get a coffee? Maybe talk a little? I have so much to say, and I just don’t know how to. I’ve missed you so much and I haven’t stopped thinking about you, even when I didn’t want to. You’ve been every thought in my brain since you left.”

There’s no reply, only Dan surging forward and capturing Phil’s lips in his own. 

It’s like coming home after a harrowing journey and being engulfed in all the things you love. It’s sweet and soft, demanding and insistent, in the same way that Dan is. 

Phil never wants to stop.

They do though, because they are still standing in the middle of the pavement late at night in the rain, but Dan pulls back and smiles, grabbing Phil’s hand and leading him away from the event. He’s not sure where they are going, but as long as he’s with Dan, he’s not too bothered about the destination.

**Author's Note:**

> like/reblog on [tumblr](http://tobieallison.tumblr.com/post/183846593011/cause-i-want-what-i-want-but-with-you-its-what) and view on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ta_hens/status/1112414923236085760) if you like :)


End file.
